


Go Forward Slowly

by cuupid



Category: Naruto
Genre: Family Feels, Fluff, Gen, Happy Ending, Kakashi and Iruka are together and in love but "nobody knows", M/M, Parent Umino Iruka, Umino Iruka-centric, food as a love language, i badly needed to see sasuke and iruka bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 16:14:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21891034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuupid/pseuds/cuupid
Summary: "Do you ever—"Iruka's touch alighted on Kakashi's arm, withdrew after a short moment. "Do I ever, what?""Do you ever wish we'd protected them better?"Naruto's voice rang high above the noise of the crowd. He was flailing, excited, in front of a table laden with food, Sasuke watching him with a smile he tried to pull into a frown. And Iruka sighed. "All the time."Kakashi nodded. "Me too."*In which the war is over and Sasuke is allowed home, and Iruka finds it all too easy to open his home and his heart to the young boy.
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka, Uchiha Sasuke & Umino Iruka, Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto, Umino Iruka & Uzumaki Naruto
Comments: 56
Kudos: 671
Collections: KakaIru 2019 Mini Bingo!, THE naruto fic list





	Go Forward Slowly

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from 'you're somebody else' by flora cash— which is a very beautiful song, even if it doesn't necessarily fit this fic.

Months after peace had settled over Konoha, Iruka entered his apartment to find an unfamiliar pair of sandals lined up beside Naruto's.

_ A friend over? _ Iruka wondered, a smile coming to his face, propping the few bags of groceries on the kitchen counter and cocking his head to listen. It was too long since their home saw more than just the two of them. 

Laughter, muffled and trying for quiet, came from inside Naruto's bedroom in answer.

Iruka knocked lightly on the door and waited. A heavy thud reached him and he shook his head fondly. "Naruto," he called, stern, they had had this conversation more times than he could count, "is Hinata here? I've told you before, the door stays open if you have company." 

Though he'd prefer if there was no such company whatsoever, Iruka worried the inside of his cheek in thought, especially when he wasn't home. The last thing he wanted was Naruto becoming a father before he was ready, God knows the boy could barely look after himself. 

But he had tried that rule once, and that had led to an argument neither he nor Naruto would win or let end. 

"It's— It's not Hinata! Naruto yelled. 

To Iruka's ears, he sounded almost frantic. Desperately so. 

"I'm coming in," Iruka warned, letting a second pass before pushing the door open wide. 

His eyes narrowed of their own accord at what he saw: Naruto sprawled at the end of his bed, arms tangling in the shirt he was desperately trying to pull over his head, a series of hickeys trailing his neck that made Iruka's eye twitch twice. 

"Uh—" Naruto rubbed at the back of his head. He grinned crookedly, but his eyes darted around the room, landing everywhere that wasn't Iruka's face. 

A small cough came from the bed. And, at the sight of dark hair hanging loosely around a familiar face and darker eyes shifting away from Naruto to meet Iruka's gaze, not a hint of embarrassment burning behind them, his hand around the doorknob loosened. "Sensei," Sasuke said, raising a hand in a slow wave. 

It wasn't the first time Iruka had seen him since his return, but, if Sasuke was regularly spending time in their apartment, Iruka had been all but completely unaware until now. 

He fought the urge to sigh, to rub at the bridge of his nose. They were both still teenagers after all. 

"Sasuke," Iruka returned with a nod, his smile genuine, if small. He looked down at Naruto, at the deep blush colouring his skin and the nervous smile taking up most of his face, and bit back a laugh. "This—" He tapped his knuckles, lightly and with little rhythm, against the door. "Stays open. I'm starting with dinner."

Making his way back to the kitchen, Iruka unpacked the groceries without thinking.

By no means was he surprised about Naruto and Sasuke— he would have had to be completely oblivious to not see how deeply they cared for each other, would have had to purposely close his eyes and choose not to see it in order to say their love for each other wasn't there.

He began preparing the chicken for a meal he wasn't entirely sure how to make, his eyes darting to the glimpse of Naruto's bedroom door every few minutes. He was happy for them, truly, but he was trying hard not to worry too much over Naruto not telling him anything.

A floorboard creaked from the passage outside Naruto's room, the boy's familiar footsteps following close behind. 

He stood in the doorway, stewing in a quiet that was unusual for him. Iruka couldn't bare it. He flickered his eyes to Naruto before sliding the chopping board and knife across the island. 

"We weren't." Naruto cleared his throat, nibbled at the inside of his lip. Iruka waited; he had learned to be good at that, at waiting for Naruto for order his thoughts and figure out which words he wanted to use. "We were just making out," finally, he said, focusing on the graceless motions of his knife chopping through green peppers. 

"Okay," using his elbow to nudge a bowl of tomatoes towards Naruto, Iruka said. "Is he okay?"

"Yeah, he's okay," Naruto said. Iruka could hear the smile in his voice and, when he looked up, wasn't surprised to find him beaming at nothing in particular. "He just got back from… doing whatever it is he does outside Konoha, I guess. He's taking a shower."

"He shouldn't overextend himself, he needs to rest. You too, you know."

Naruto gave a noncommittal hum. 

The worked together in relative silence. In the kind of comfortable peace that only came with cooking together for almost an entire life.

Iruka remembered when Naruto was younger, how he'd tug at Iruka's pants leg until he hoisted him on top of the counter, and loudly insist on being Iruka's kitchen assistant; a position that consisted mainly of pretending to know what ingredients the dish  _ definitely couldn't do without  _ and passing them to Iruka in the hopes he wouldn't notice they weren't in his recipe. 

And picking, Iruka remembered, a lot of picking from dishes while Iruka's back was turned. 

He eyed Naruto as he moved the green papers to a corner of the board and started on the tomatoes. "Careful," Iruka said, watching the knife land too close to a fingertip for his comfort. He never did like seeing Naruto injured. 

Rolling his eyes, Naruto murmured, "Yeah, yeah." But it was a harmless thing, and Iruka's heart tugged to see it. He was growing so fast. One day he would no longer be living in their home, one day Iruka would watch him get married, one day a hundred things might become more important than Iruka; so Iruka cherished these moments, and he tucked them away in a precious memory. 

Wiping his hands off on his pants, Iruka asked, "How long have you two been together?"

Naruto shrugged. "Dunno. It's weird. We were rivals, but we were also always kinda together. First kiss, first love, before we even started dating." He stared down at the vegetables littering his board, seeming not to see them. "Let's just say two months and go from there."

"Does he treat you well?" 

"He loves me."

"That's not what I'm asking." 

"He respects me and my boundaries. He's so infuriating sometimes but... other times... It's almost like he's learnt what things make me happy and does them on purpose." Naruto shrugged. "You don't have to worry, Dad, y'know, he treats me very well."

Iruka nodded, shortly. He was satisfied. 

Just to see Naruto happy, he was satisfied.

A moment after they fell back into familiar rhythm, as if waiting for the awkward conversation to pass, Sasuke exited the room. His hands held tight at his sides. 

His shirt hung loosely on his frame and Iruka wondered when the last time was that he had eaten a proper meal. 

Eyes dark in the living room light that Iruka needed badly to replace, he watched Iruka and Naruto work for hardly longer than a second, then turned to the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" Iruka asked, looking up from the extra chicken he was cutting. 

"I don't want to intrude."

Iruka's voice softened, and he smiled. "You're not. Come, do you know how to make dumplings?" 

Sasuke shook his head. "No," he murmured. 

"It's fairly easy. There's a recipe book in that cupboard." Iruka gestured, almost aimlessly. "Naruto, I'll finish the vegetables. You two can make the dumplings while Sasuke fills me in on all the embarrassing stories you've neglected to tell me."

"Hey! That's not fair!" Naruto exclaimed. 

A smile cracked Sasuke's lips, and he bowed his head slightly forward. 

Pulling down the recipe book as Naruto followed Iruka's instructions and gathered bowls and spoons onto the counter, Sasuke turned away and hid the better part of a laugh into the back of his hand. 

_ This is your home too, now,  _ Iruka wanted to say. 

* * *

The Academy always managed to keep Iruka sharp and today had been no different. A young girl, transferred into his class that morning and with a shock of bright red hair unlike anything Iruka had ever seen before, took to whispering dares to the other students while she thought Iruka wasn't paying attention. 

For the most part, they were harmless. But by mid-afternoon when her getting the students to throw paper planes at Iruka and dance across the room didn't garner any attention, her dares only grew worse. 

By the time the day drew to an end, he'd stopped two desks from catching afire and one from being burned to a crisp, called on his limited knowledge of medical jitsu to stop the young Yamazaki twins from choking on beetles during the second lunch break and pulled three students playing on the broken jungle gym. 

Haggard, Iruka balanced a small basket in the bend of his elbow as he idly perused the fresh produce stands outside the shops; almost dead on his feet. 

He didn't have a mission desk shift until Friday. If he could finish grading papers early, he would have almost two entire nights of much needed rest. His stomach flipped at the prospect, and he realized just how old, and just how exhausted, he was starting to sound. 

Bright red tomatoes, shining invitingly under the late afternoon's slowly fading golden light, caught Iruka's eye.  _ Oh, yes,  _ he remembered, weighing each tomato in his hand and carefully checking for dents and signs of rotting. 

Teaching was no easy job, despite what a few of his peers still thought, and he spent hours working on lesson plans and tests. The night before had been no different, unless he was on a mission his nights rarely were. Midnight drew near with Iruka hardly scratching the surface of his mound of paperwork. 

Naruto lay fast asleep on the couch and Sasuke made himself comfortable on the other side of the coffee table. Eyes looking both tired and focused, he flipped through page after page of the old Umino recipe book; hovered fingers over passages and hummed under his breath. 

"I'm not much of a cook, but I can teach you how to make some of those," Iruka offered, pen neither pausing nor eyes straying from the papers scattered across the table. "If you want."

"Hm." And Sasuke nodded sharply, just once, before returning to what Iruka remembered was a recipe on eggplant curry his grandmother had claimed to have perfected. 

Packing five tomatoes and a handful of baby potatoes comfortably in the basket, he thanked the stall owner with a smile as he rummaged around in his vest pockets for the change he made sure to always keep on him. He restrained himself from cursing and looked apologetically at the slowly deepening frown aimed at him. "Sorry, sorry," he said, waving his arms wildly, "I have money on me, I promise!" 

"It's okay, it's okay," the older man said, raising his hands in quieting gestures. "I don't have a doubt about a fine shinobi educator like yourself."

Fire burned across his face and the tips of his ears. He was mortified, and all he could do was hope that he actually had the money he promised on him. 

A hand, gloved and swift, reached around his shoulders and pressed a coin into the stall owner's outstretched hand. "Keep the change," came Kakashi's voice, low and familiar and close to Iruka's ear. 

If it weren't for that he had long since grown used to Kakashi's sudden appearances, Iruka would have startled. 

As it was, he ignored him to bow low to the elderly vendor and turn away from the stall, continuing his meander through the rest of the market. It wouldn't be wise to cause a scene. 

"'Ruka," Kakashi teased, keeping pace with little difficulty. "Not even a kind smile to greet your lover?" 

"Shut up. The whole village doesn't need to know our business." He rolled his eyes and narrowed his gaze at Kakashi, grumbled under his breath, "You didn't have to do that back there. I have money on me."

"I wanted to," Kakashi said, jovially. He reached to take the basket from Iruka's arm, and Iruka let him. "You looked embarrassed. Besides," he shrugged, "I know how expensive feeding Naruto can be, it wouldn't do you any good to go bankrupt."

"Thank you." He watched Kakashi out of the corner of his eye, the way his steady hands picked through Iruka's groceries and how he sniffed at a few of the loose vegetables before satisfactorily putting them back. Iruka smiled to himself and, because it was the first time they had seen each other in over a month and Iruka wasn't often weak to his wants, he cupped a hand around Kakashi's elbow. Let his touch linger; breathed in, pulled away. "How was your mission?" he asked. 

"Good and bad," Kakashi offered, scrutinizing an eggplant. "Were you anticipating my arrival?" 

Soon into their relationship he had learned about Kakashi's love for miso soup and eggplant. Iruka wasn't much in the kitchen— though Kakashi argued when he said so— and he had practiced making the soup as close to how Kakashi enjoyed it as was able. 

Iruka chuckled, bringing his hands back to his sides. "Not entirely. I'm… Well, I'm teaching Sasuke to make baingan bharta," Iruka explained. "It's my grandmother's eggplant curry. He seems interested in learning."

Kakashi was quiet and, nipping at the inside of his lip, Iruka dared not look at him.

They left the market behind. Crowds of Konoha villagers, either rejoicing the rest that came with the end of the day or heading towards night jobs, bustled and pressed them together. He had missed this; having Kakashi so close, being able to wrap their hands together for a brief moment when he was sure he could get away with it. 

But he still couldn't bring himself to look at him. 

Not everybody had forgiven Sasuke; not everybody could see that there was nothing truly to forgive, just to understand, to hold out a hand and hope to ease the turmoil broiling underneath the surface. 

Iruka would not know where to put his pain if he looked at Kakashi and saw that same anger— that same bitter coldness— he saw on the faces of so many others. 

Kakashi wrapped their hands together and squeezed, once, let go. "Ruka," he said softly, with the name only he used for Iruka, in the quiet voice he saved only for Iruka's ears. And Iruka met his gaze, gentle and warm and smiling down at him. "Please don't try anything that could burn down your apartment."

Smacking his arm, Iruka scowled. "That was  _ one time _ ! You know how Naruto gets when he's waiting for food, it's not my fault we got stuck outside."

"Blame the twelve year old, very mature."

"He was  _ thirteen _ ."

Kakashi's chuckle was low. He settled his arm over Iruka's shoulder and pulled him into his side, his laugh rumbling enticingly through Iruka. "Hm. Very mature. Is he home now?" 

"Who, Naruto?" 

"Sasuke."

Iruka nodded. "Yeah, they both should be." He barely noticed when they neared his apartment. Realizing only as Kakashi strolled to a stop and let his arm drop away. 

"Will you come up?" Iruka asked, taking back his basket. 

"Maybe another time." Kakashi ran a hand over the back of his neck. A sheepish smile alighting his lips. "I may or may not owe a report to Tsunade-sama. I should've gone straight to her… but I missed you too much."

Iruka couldn't help a smile of his own creasing his face; couldn't help the love and want blossoming in the midst of his chest. 

Too long had passed since they'd last seen each other. He needed to kiss Kakashi so bad, it was almost a violent thing with a mind of its own tearing at his chest with no reprieve. But he opted for running a hand along his arm, felt the shift of firm muscles under his hand and accepted it as the best that they could have in the moment. 

Inevitably, there were downsides to keeping their relationship a secret. 

"I missed you, too," he said, as soft. "Will you come see me later tonight, after Naruto goes to sleep?" 

Kakashi pressed a cloth-covered kiss to Iruka's forehead, swift and little more than a promise. "Of course I will. Keep leftovers for me."

Laughing and longing, Iruka promised. 

Reluctance weaved into their shoulders and into the lingering of fingertips against the back of hands as they parted; into eyes meeting and soft  _ goodnight _ s that danced and curled around each man. 

Hands buried deep in his pockets once more, Kakashi rocked back on his heels and waited until Iruka reached his floor. Only then did Iruka see him turn away from the building and make his slow way to Hokage Tower. 

Iruka had missed him so much, he wanted nothing more than to run done, grab him by the wrist and insist he ignore his duty for the sake of a dinner with him, Naruto and Sasuke. 

He sighed. That would have ANBU at his door in no time, Iruka knew, and that was never a fun way to end a night. He paused—  _ hardly ever  _ a fun way to end a night _ ,  _ he corrected himself, shaking the thought away and unlocking the front door. 

"I'm home!" Iruka called. The door opened to Naruto's unintelligible yelling, no doubt at the television, a familiarity at this time of night while his favourite drama played, and he shut it quickly behind him before any of his neighbours started banging on his door, complaining about the noise. 

He slipped off his sandals and set them beside Sasuke's. 

The boy still owned and had access to the Uchiha family home, but his shoes had quickly become a permanent fixture beside theirs and his clothes were more often than not mixed in with his and Naruto's laundry and when Iruka awoke to make coffee before his day could start it was growing less and less unnatural to find Sasuke sitting with a cup of tea, watching the sun rise and the sky change colour. 

His flak vest dropped on the back of the couch, Iruka stretched. Tension pulled at his back muscles and he thought it would be nice to visit the onsen soon. 

Sasuke lifted his head from where it lay, pillowed in Naruto's lap. "Hey, Iruka-sensei," he said, so much like Kakashi in his offering of a single wave. 

"What's Wei Wuxian been up to this time?" crossing his arms along the backrest, Iruka asked. As much as he hadn't intended to sit and watch any of Naruto's daily shows, he always found himself intrigued, his interests peaked by Naruto's own.

Naruto's tightened jaw loosened and he threw his hands up in frustration. "I can't do this anymore! I'm not going to watch another episode after this one!" he yelled, his brow creasing furiously. 

The show came back from a short ad break and any answers Iruka was expecting could be kissed goodbye for at least another twenty minutes. 

He raised an eyebrow at the back of Naruto's head. Holding in a small laugh, he didn't stop the touch of a smile from breaking through. 

"They're trapped in a cave and he keeps crying because it's obvious that they're in love with each other but they haven't said it yet," Sasuke provided, helpfully. Sounding much like someone who sat through hours of impassioned ranting. 

"Ah." That sounded familiar, but he wouldn't say so. Instead, he asked Sasuke, "Are you watching?" 

Sasuke shook his head, no. "You watch the reruns on Saturday, don't you? I'll watch then."

Something twisted in Iruka's chest. Something that reminded him too much of how he had felt when Naruto had first come into his life to easily be explained away. "Okay." He nodded, hoping this wouldn't be one of those times where it was only too simple to read his every emotion. "We can start on dinner, if you want. The curry doesn't take too long to make, but it's better if we give ourselves time. Naruto can help when his show finishes."

In answer, Naruto threw an enthusiastic, if distracted, thumbs up over his shoulder. And, pressing a kiss to the arm slung over his chest, Sasuke pushed away from him. 

It was a tender moment, and Iruka's heart swelled that the two of them were able to have it. 

"I was thinking," Sasuke looked up from the cookbook and, as Iruka entered the kitchen after him, said. "We should try making something that needs us to flambé it. 

Iruka's hand stilled on the edge of the counter. He remembered his promise to Kakashi and, though Sasuke already seemed more competent in the kitchen, it was still an open flame. And open flames and Iruka were a recipe for disaster if ever he had heard one. 

He managed a strangled laugh. "Better not," he said. "Uh, why don't we stick to the basics for now."

Unbothered, Sasuke shrugged. "Just a thought," he muttered. 

And, oh, Iruka's chest panged at the small frown on Sasuke's face. It was definitely an ache he felt before. He hung his head for half a second; he could never really say no to Naruto either. "I'll think it over," Iruka said. Words spoken before he could think about them but, at the muted smile inching across Sasuke's face, not regretted. 

Beginning to thinly slice one of the eggplants, he wondered if he could convince Kakashi, who was a better cook than him by far, to try some of the more adventurous dishes with the boy. 

He wouldn't have to do much for the answer to be a yes. Though Kakashi had always favoured Sakura, he loved and cared for all three of them deeply and for all he'd act annoyed at the extra work, Iruka knew he'd enjoy it. 

"You know, I cooked for myself all the time," Sasuke stated, unprompted. 

Iruka nodded. He knew. It was hard and it was lonely. Until Naruto, he had cooked for himself— cooked by himself— too. 

Sasuke measured the last bit of cumin seeds into the bowl and let Iruka check their progress against the recipe. "This is nice," he said, his mouth almost unnoticeably quirking up at the corners. 

"Yeah," Iruka agreed, "it really is." Tears welled behind his eyes. He smiled and started talking about his students to distract himself from them. 

Naruto's show ended and he bound into the kitchen, content with sitting in a corner of the room and doing as little as was demanded of him. 

It was— and the schoolteacher in Iruka scowled at the use of the word but the father in him wanted to cry, wanted to wrap his arms around his boys and hug them as hard as they would let him—  _ nice _ . 

* * *

Days moved slowly, in the way they only could during times of peace, and Iruka was content to move slowly with them. 

He worked at the Academy and pulled mission desk shifts and though his days were as busy as always, they didn't burden him as they once had. He was only twenty-eight but maybe it was the gift that came with age. Iruka nibbled at the end of his red pen. 

His eyes danced to the jounin sitting cross-legged on a desk, abandoned at the end of the day, and rifling through the takeout bag with which he had slipped through the window. Or maybe it was him. 

Maybe it was Kakashi and the odd way he had about fitting into Iruka's world, making him smile and laugh as easy as breathing. 

Crumpled wax paper bounced off the side of Iruka's head, successfully pulling him from his thoughts. He stopped its roll halfway down the desk and directed a frown at Kakashi in turn. "What?" 

"Am I so desirable as to distract even you from your work?" Kakashi asked, voice dripping with false innocence. 

Iruka stared at Kakashi for a beat longer, then dropped his gaze back to his papers. There wasn't much more for him to do anyway, he could be finished and by the other man's side in minutes. Pen gliding over pages, he said, "I was just thinking that if you break that desk you have to make a new one." 

"Make? That seems unreasonable." He opened a small container and sniffed at its contents. "You want some of this ramen?" 

"You can afford desks for this whole classroom, it would be an insult to me to have you buy one. Did you get eggplant again?"

Kakashi rolled back his shoulders, but said nothing as he moved his chopsticks through the ramen. "It's chicken," he said, walking to Iruka's desk before Iruka had to ask. "It smells good, have a bite."

"My hands are occupied." Iruka curled his lips in a fleeting smirk, glancing at his hands resting on the table for a moment, then looking back at Kakashi. Dutifully, he opened his mouth and waited for the first bite of Kakashi's very late lunch. 

His eye turned up in a smile. A small laugh, choking and sweet and enough to make Iruka want to pull Kakashi into a kiss, fell from Kakashi's mouth. "You're the only person I'd ever do this for," he said, softly, bringing ramen-laden chopsticks to Iruka's mouth. 

Iruka hummed. It was good, even better than it smelled, and he waited for Kakashi to finish his own mouthful before he could ask for another. 

It occurred to him that he hadn't eaten since ten that morning, when he had dismissed his class for their first break of the day. Suddenly, he was starving.

Sasuke and Naruto were away on a short mission but, with them gone, Iruka hadn't felt much like cooking. 

He chewed around his second mouthful, silently enjoying the long lines of Kakashi's body leaning against his desk. Enjoying the nonchalance in the way his mask settled at his throat, in the way his legs crossed at the ankle. 

Iruka could watch him for days. He was gorgeous. 

"Are you still hungry?" he asked, setting his chin in an upturned palm and smiling at his lover… At whatever he was supposed to call the man who brought him lunch every day that he could, who loved the people he loved and who shared his bed with him most nights. 

Kakashi shrugged. Putting little effort into his aim, he threw the now empty container into the bin across the classroom. "Sure." He paused in pulling his mask back up and turned to look at Iruka. "Do you want to take me out on a date, sensei?" 

"Shut up," Iruka laughed, curling a hand into Kakashi's flak vest and pulling him close. Easily, joyously easily, Kakashi went with the gentle tug. "Fine, it's a date. You happy?" 

Humming, Kakashi closed his eye and said nothing. 

They kissed. Slow and chaste. The feel of his lips, the taste of him, lingering moments after Kakashi pulled away and he'd once again covered the bottom half of his face. 

Iruka's hold loosened, then dropped altogether. He turned back to his desk and began gathering the papers and stationary scattered across the desk, but, hands in his pockets and slightly turned towards Iruka, Kakashi didn't move away. 

"You're paying, though," Iruka said, fixing the last of his belongings inside his bag and letting his gaze slip appreciatively over Kakashi's body as he leaned closer. 

Naruto was away on a mission. And Kakashi was home. And he would have the apartment to himself. A small smile sneaked across his face at the thought. 

Kakashi opened his mouth to speak when the classroom door flew open, cutting him off but not startling him enough to make him turn. "Your friend is here," he said, coolly, shifting to rest against the table a length away from Iruka. 

"Oh! You're both here!" Anko exclaimed. Her gaze, settling on Iruka, was somewhere dangerously between a pointed glare and a confused furrow. 

Letting out a low breath, he said, "Hey."

Kakashi waved and uttered a, "Yo," as bored and noncommittal as Iruka had ever heard it. 

"We're going out for drinks."

"What?"

"I just got back from a mission, I've missed you and I need to get shit-faced. Absolutely plastered. We're going out for drinks."

"Well." Iruka scratched at the scar cutting across his face and stood, slinging his bag over a shoulder. "I was kinda… already planning to get dinner and head home."

Despair, though Iruka was sure it was far more dramatic and less genuine than despair, twisted up Anko's face. She grabbed Iruka by his arms and shook him, roughly. "Iruka, you're getting too old too quickly. Straight home on a Friday night? I can't have that. We're going for drinks and— When was the last time you got some dick?" 

From behind him, Kakashi choked on a laugh, sharp and almost inaudible. But Iruka heard it. 

He laughed, breathily, used to Anko but not to the eyes boring into the back of his head, waiting for an answer that Kakashi should already know. It had been him, after all; Iruka hadn't been with anyone other than Kakashi in nearly a year. 

"Not  _ that _ long ago," Iruka said, slipping free of Anko's iron grip and trying for a smile. 

She  _ tsked.  _ "We're gonna go for drinks and we're both gonna get laid!" linking their arms together and pulling them towards the door, she declared. 

A glance over his shoulder an invitation to join, Kakashi fell into step beside Iruka. 

And Iruka ached to take his hand, even for a second, for a quick squeeze, and reassure him that it would be alright. 

It had been Iruka's idea and not Kakashi's to keep their relationship as private as possible. Curled around each other on Iruka's sofa, the morning they realized they wanted something  _ more,  _ he had said "It's between us— only us" and Kakashi had stared dumbly at him for the long length of a heartbeat before nodding his agreement. 

Iruka had thought it was for the best. Sometimes, he wasn't so sure anymore. 

"Hey, Kakashi!" Anko called around him. "You know Yamato, right?" 

Kakashi grunted, yes. 

Training her gaze back on Iruka she smiled, mischief in the smile and in the light behind her eyes. "He's hot, don't you think? You two are friends so I don't think Kakashi would mind hooking you up, would you, eh, Kakashi?"

Kakashi stared at her for a second that dragged, painfully long and leaving Iruka wanting nothing more than to be swallowed by the ground beneath his feet. 

A believing eye-smile graced his face. "Ah, but what if my dear kouhai is not interested in our Iruka-sensei?" 

"Please," Anko said, dismissing him with the wave of a hand and a brusque laugh. 

They neared a bar a block away from the Academy, already the noise of dozens of shinobi, off for the weekend and rejoicing in being alive for another night, leaking into the street. 

"Not interested?" Anko scoffed. Barking a laugh, as if Kakashi had said the funniest thing in the world. 

The look, heavy with apology, Iruka sent over his shoulder was all he could spare before he was pulled into the bar, a round of cheers greeting them and drowning out much else. 

He didn't miss the nod Kakashi gave him, though, nor the understanding smile curving up his eye. 

* * *

"Did they seem weird to you?" Anko asked, chin balanced on the rim of her beer bottle, her speech was a little slurred. But her eyes were keen and she wasn't even close to being drunk enough that her thoughts were clouded. 

Taking another swig of her drink, she narrowed her eyes at Yamato, nursing a bottle of sake at the other end of the bar and nodding along to whatever tale the bartender was feeding him. 

He had been without company for most of the night. 

Beside her, Genma shrugged. "Who, Kakashi? He's always been a couple ants short of a picnic." 

"And Iruka," Anko added, deciding to ignore the rest of what Genma had said. 

"Hm." Genma chewed on the end of his senbon and hummed. 

She watched his eyes grow distant and figured that that was all she would get out of him. Trying for more would be a disappointment. And, If Yamato was still available, she didn't see why she couldn't try to take him home— at least then her night out wouldn't have been a waste. Shooting back the last of her drink, she made to stand. "Goodnight, eh," she threw hastily over shoulder, not caring whether Genma responded. 

"I guess they were kinda all over each other," Genma scratched at his chin and said, effectively reeling Anko back into the conversation, a moment earlier, she was all too eager to leave. "Kakashi did order Iruka's food for him, and Iruka  _ never  _ lets anybody order food for him. Remember last week?" He hummed, in thought.

Anko cringed. A jounin they didn't really know had set his sights on Iruka, had left with a fresh bruise on his upper arm. 

"Plus." She jerked her thumb at Yamato. "I tried to hook them up all night and he's here  _ alone _ while Iruka and Kakashi are nowhere to be seen."

"They left at the same time, too, as soon as they finished dinner."

They stared at each other. Both suddenly much more sober than a moment before. 

"You don't think…?" Anko began, but stopped herself.  _ Iruka and Kakashi… _ She tapped her fingers against the bartop. "No. That's ridiculous!" She and Iruka were best friends. They told each other everything, didn't they? She would have known. 

A throat cleared from down the bar. Voice clear, Yamato said, "They have lunch together every day. Yamanaka-san saw them holding hands outside her flower shop." He sipped his sake and smiled. "They get along and are comfortable in each other's company. It's not  _ that  _ ridiculous."

Genma leaned around Anko and stared, open-mouthed, at Yamato. "She saw them holding hands and didn't tell anyone!?" 

"She respects their privacy. She only told me to make sure they were looking after each other," Yamato said, carefully. "Kakashi-senpai and Iruka-sensei…" he chuckled. "Honestly, I wasn't surprised."

Anko levelled a narrow-eyed glare at him. "Why are you telling us this then, don't  _ you also _ respect their privacy?" 

He shrugged. "I'm a little drunk."

Appreciatively, Gemma laughed at that. He was a little drunk, himself. 

"So. They're together." Anko cracked her knuckles, loud and angry in the quieting of the bar. "When were they going to tell us? Or were they waiting for us to figure it out on our own?"  _ Or were they never going to tell anybody at all? _

* * *

The apartment was a two bedroom that Iruka had worked hard to afford once Naruto started living with him. Missions both high- and low-profile, extra mission desk shifts, private tutoring once the Academy let out— whatever he could, Iruka made sure that Naruto had more than just a roof over his head and enough food in his fridge. He made sure Naruto had a home. 

Peeling his eyes open, Iruka squinted against the faint light falling through the slit between the drawn curtains. His head throbbed a little from the night before. 

They hadn't stayed out long— Kakashi, close, his hand rubbing slow circles into Iruka's thigh under the table and distracting him from most of the conversation— but Anko had gotten enough alcohol into Iruka that even the quick jutsu he'd done afterwards had not been enough to chase the last of the headache away. 

The smell of eggs and coffee wafted through the slightly cracked door, and he was not entirely sure whether it was a welcomed scent or not. 

He rubbed at the side of his head, where the worst of the headache seemed to concentrate and, slipping from the blankets, shivered as crisp air touched his skin. It was cooler than expected, and he was only too grateful for the sweatshirt laying crumpled on his the floor— it was old and too big for him, hanging almost to his knees, but it was comfortable and fought off most of the cold. 

"'Kashi?" Iruka called, gentle as sleep clung to his voice, following the smell of breakfast cooking and trying not to think too much about the rumble of his stomach. 

Relishing in the fact that he could relax.

He loved cooking with Sasuke— it was one of those things Naruto had quickly outgrown, too fidgety and too focused on the outcome rather than the process— but not a day went by that they weren't seeing the inside of the kitchen. With Naruto, Iruka often declared a  _ resting day  _ and headed for the nearest restaurant, most often enough Ichiraku. 

He got the distinct feeling that that wouldn't work with Sasuke. 

Iruka wrapped his arms around himself. 

He always enjoyed the mornings Kakashi didn't have to sneak out the bedroom window and he looked forward to being made breakfast for, to being close to Kakashi after waking up to an empty bed, still warm from his lover's body. 

He thought of Kakashi kissing him good morning— of rough hands tightening around him and lifting Iruka onto the kitchen counter with an ease that had surprised him in the beginning, kissing him breathless to make up for how long they would have to go without seeing each other once Sasuke and Naruto returned— and he revelled in the heat chasing up the column of his neck. 

A head of bright yellow peeking out from around the kitchen entrance caused Iruka's step to falter. Naruto waved, his smile strained. "We're in here," he said, a crease in his forehead Iruka knew he wouldn't be able to chase away. 

Mind racing, Iruka returned the smile. How was he supposed to explain Kakashi's presence in their apartment so early in the morning, and while Iruka slept, on top of everything? 

"You're home early," Iruka noted, gliding his eyes over the dishes piled in the sink and the last of a mess covering half the counter.

Iruka caught Kakashi looking at him. Flipping pancakes smoothly, his movements didn't falter as he drank Iruka in. Iruka mouthed a "Hey" and burned when the other man simply winked back.

He could feel the smirk hiding under Kakashi's mask, knew the way it felt pressed to his skin. And, in his mind, over half a dozen distinct voices were calling him a horrible father for wishing Naruto's mission had lasted _just_ _a_ _little_ longer. 

"We're not home  _ that _ early," Naruto insisted, hungrily eyeing up the plates upon plates of food, "You woke up late."

"It's not that late," Iruka grumbled. He crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. It was just past nine o' clock. 

Sasuke breezed in then, drying his hands on his shirt and looking pointedly between Iruka and Kakashi. Looking away.

He opened his mouth, very much he wanted badly to say something but wasn't sure how to say it. "Are there any berries in the pancakes?" Sasuke asked, but Iruka knew that wasn't it. 

"Are you allergic?" 

"No, uh, I'm not, but I saw you had some and thought we could… use them."

"Maa," Kakashi cut in, and Iruka could feel the blush starting even before he said any more, "Iruka doesn't like berries in his pancakes."

"How do you know?" voice and eyes as sharp as knives, Sasuke demanded. 

And, whipping his head around to look at the man standing over the stove, in a shirt that looked like Kakashi's but was two sizes too big for his slim frame, Naruto's voice dropped. "Yeah, how do you know?" 

There was that feeling again. He wanted the earth to swallow him whole. 

Kakashi hummed, tunelessly. A smile in his voice, he said, "Why, didn't he tell you? I'm in charge of looking after Konoha's precious teacher when he has a little too much to drink." 

Sceptical, Naruto looked at Iruka. "Does that happen often?" 

"Not often, but—" Iruka shrugged, internally cringing into a tight ball. "Anko and Gemma don't like to leave with anybody who, uh, isn't taking them to bed, and Izumo's a lightweight," Iruka explained, scratching at his nose, thankful that it was close enough to the truth to be comfortable. He sat across the table from Naruto. "Kakashi makes sure I get home safe."

"And stays the night and makes breakfast for you," Sasuke broke his silence to say. 

Iruka stiffened. Naruto might not have caught on yet, but of course Sasuke had. 

"Well, it's only fair that he doesn't strain himself when he's hungover," Kakashi said, setting a plate of pancakes on the table and taking his seat beside Iruka. Close. Always so close. "Didn't I teach you the importance of looking after your friends? Come. Sit and eat." 

Reluctant, eyes not straying far from Kakashi and Iruka for too long, he joined them for breakfast. 

Naruto began pestering Kakashi about his recent missions while Sasuke quietly watched it all enfold. By the time they finished the meal and cleared the kitchen, almost an hour had passed, leaving very little time before noon would greet them and yet feeling nothing like a day wasted. 

And also leaving enough time for a visit to the afternoon market before it grew too crowded, Iruka declared, to a loud groan from Naruto, eyeing what he could see of the market from the living room window.

"But I just got home!" Naruto whined, slouching on the sofa. 

Iruka looked at him out of the corner of an eye. "You don't have to come, it's okay."

"I'm coming," Sasuke said. 

Naruto threw his hands up and groaned. " _ Fiiiiine. _ "

Turning away, Iruka smiled to himself. 

Kakashi, enlisted to accompany Tsunade to Sunagakure and leaving that Monday to return long after his birthday, had insisted Iruka not do anything; "Don't worry about it," he'd said, raking his fingers through Iruka's hair and planting gentle kisses on his nose, his chin, the corner of his smile, as if Iruka wanting to celebrate the man he loved was a worry. 

"Just something small," Iruka had rolled his eyes and said, "like a cake or something." 

Kakashi had pushed him flat on his back and they were laughing, hushing themselves into tender kisses, when Kakashi shrugged and murmured, "Whatever makes you happy."

He rolled his sleeves to his elbow and tapped his foot impatiently,  _ one two three, one two three,  _ a sign of familiar irritation. 

Neither of the boys paid him any mind, Naruto only sniggering when Kakashi exited the bathroom, dressed in clean clothes and waving a lazy  _ sorry  _ at Iruka. 

Iruka exhaled. It was easy, domestic in a way he didn't want to think too much about. 

Outside, strolling through the marketplace, close enough that their hands brushed as they walked but not so close that whispers would start up and stories would spread. 

They talked and shared quiet laughter as Naruto looped his arm through Sasuke's and dragged him from stall to stall. 

"They're still just kids, huh," Kakashi said, something akin to sadness in his voice. "Do you ever." And he shook his head.

Iruka's touch alighted on Kakashi's arm, withdrew after a short moment. "Do I ever, what?" 

"Do you ever wish we'd protected them better?" 

Naruto's voice rang high above the noise of the crowd. He was flailing, excited, in front of a table laden with food, Sasuke watching him with a smile he tried to pull into a frown. And Iruka sighed. "All the time." 

Kakashi nodded. "Me too," he whispered. 

Naruto noticed they'd caught up and started moving his arms in wild arcs above his head as he called, "Hey, Dad! Kaka-sensei! Come check out this old man's Iwa food!" 

A fierce heat travelled up Iruka's neck as eyes strayed to him and hurriedly darted away. " _ Old man, _ " Iruka forced out through gritted teeth. Half the village already thought Iruka had never taught Naruto manners, and every day it seemed to only grow worse.

Kakashi just chuckled, low and rough and bringing Iruka back down from his rising embarrassment. And he cherished the feeling of skin on skin as Kakashi circled his fingers around Iruka's wrist. It was natural, touching like that, as if they were always touching, in public, in front of Naruto, as they closed the distance and bought enough food to tide them over until the evening. Kakashi even paid the vendor extra in apology for Naruto's rudeness. 

Kakashi threw his arm over Naruto's shoulders as, arms laden with goods, they wound their way back home. Iruka laughed around a mouthful of corn as Kakashi tried to swipe some of Sasuke's dango, only to be swatted effortlessly away. 

Easy and domestic, Iruka thought; _easily_ _domestic_. They almost felt like a family. 

And, for some part of him, it hurt. 

* * *

Sitting Kakashi in front of the TV with  _ Make-Out Tactics  _ seemed to be all he wanted. 

Iruka had flicked him lightly on the shoulder. "I know you don't like sweet things but I've got a cake recipe that uses almost no sugar," he said, and Kakashi smiled up at him. And if it weren't for how acutely aware he was of Naruto's eyes on them, Iruka would have kissed him, slowly and gracelessly. 

"Hey," Sasuke said, voice quiet. 

He had slipped into the kitchen soon after they returned home. Leaning against the edge of the countertop, he watched Naruto in animated conversation with Kakashi and Sakura, the girl having invited herself after running into them when leaving the market. 

Gaze piercing dots of black, he tilted his head to look at Iruka. "So. You and Kakashi-sensei." 

It wasn't a question. Iruka huffed out a breath at his forwardness, grateful that, at least, they didn't have to dance around the conversation. 

Washing off his hands, Iruka closed the tap with finality. A small smile slipped across his face. He stole a glance at Kakashi, eye drooping and his arms folded over his stomach as he let Naruto and Sakura talk ceaselessly at him. 

His heart warmed. "Is it that obvious?" he asked, drying his hands on the first tea-towel he could find. 

Sasuke dipped his head. "Yes." Then, slowly, he shrugged. "You gravitate around each other. Right now, he's tried to catch your eye twelve times. Thirteen. And, you know… this morning."

Iruka cast a glance over his shoulder. Deep brown eyes met a pale grey one that seemed to hold him, caress him, regardless of the distance between them. 

Crossing his eyes, Iruka waggled his fingers in a surreptitious wave. 

Kakashi smiled and, where his body didn't so much as shiver, his eyes shone with mirth, overflowed with laughter. 

"Naruto doesn't know," Sasuke said. Again, not a question. 

And Iruka sighed. "No. Naruto doesn't know."

"Why, are you embarrassed?" 

"It's complicated." Iruka settled against the counter, taking up the space next to Sasuke. A dog Iruka couldn't remember seeing a minute ago dug its claws into Naruto's pants and held on, even as the boy tried to shake it off. Sasuke and Iruka huffed a laugh at the same time. "I'm not embarrassed," Iruka said, crossing his arms over his chest, "Or ashamed, or anything else… I… just don't want too much to change too soon. You coming back into his life— it's— and I love you more than anything, Sasuke, really I do— but it's this huge thing I don't think he even really prepared for. I know Naruto and he's— It won't be good to tell him about me and Kakashi right now."

The "it's been a year" went unsaid from Sasuke, and Iruka was grateful. Maybe, just maybe, a part of him was scared— of what Naruto would think, of what people would say. 

Iruka cut a look to Sasuke and those black eyes, so fierce, were clouded in uncertainty. And something else, something Iruka couldn't name. Dropping his stare quickly, Sasuke scratched at his chin and aimed a daggered glare at the tiled kitchen floor. "Does he regret that I came back?" he asked, words stilted and choked, as if he was both baring his heart and hiding pieces of himself away. "That I stayed?"

"No," Iruka said with hushed certainty. His hand hovered over Sasuke's shoulder and then he settled it, feeling his thinness through his loose shirt and trying not to worry too much about it. "Never. Listen to me,  _ never.  _ You're a good person, Sasuke, and nobody makes him happier than you make him. The only thing he regrets— that  _ we all _ regret— is that this village didn't keep you safe. And that you couldn't have come home sooner."

"Home." Sasuke exhaled. And it didn't escape Iruka's notice how his eyes travelled to the lounge to rest on Naruto, now sprawling on the floor with the strange dog seated on his chest. 

He lowered his hand and they stood for a long while, in a blanket of quiet that fell around them. 

"Do you?" Sasuke questioned, and he looked Iruka directly in the eye. "Do you regret that I stayed? That I'm here all the time, around him, around your precious son?" 

And Iruka's heart tore to shreds in his chest. And he knew—  _ he knew—  _ that no matter how many times he told Sasuke that he was more than welcomed, that he was loved, shreds of doubt would linger at the back of his mind.

Iruka fought back his tears. He wrapped Sasuke into a tight hug and, hoping every ounce of truth would ring through his words, he said, "Sasuke. You are  _ as _ precious to me." Sasuke choked out a soft sound and Iruka hugged him tighter, letting go only when Sasuke's arms loosened from around him. He wiped away a line of tears with the end of his sleeve, just as he used to do for Naruto, when the boy was younger and he's tears flowed more freely. "Remember that," Iruka said, softly, firmly. "Please always remember that."

Sasuke nodded. "You should tell him," he said, suddenly, looking away from Iruka and to the people in the living room. "He's not a complete moron and you and Kakashi-sensei aren't very good at hiding it. He won't like to be the last to know."

"Okay," Iruka said, realizing the moment had drawn to its end and opening his recipe book to one of many, many marked pages. "Soon," he promised, and then, "Do you want to make the icing while I start with the cake batter?" 

Again, Sasuke nodded. "Thank you," he said, a barely audible rasp, and Iruka dipped his head forward in an answering nod. 

They sank into routine, familiar with each other after months of cooking together. 

They agonized over how to decorate, neither having much experience in piping and decoration. And after what felt like ages before they decided it didn't actually matter and spreading the icing as neat as possible, they carried the cake to the lounge. 

Sasuke lit a birthday candle, the thirty a shocking green, with a goading smirk at Kakashi. "Whose idea was it to buy that?" the jounin complained. 

"Mine," Iruka said, pushing Kakashi aside and squeezing in next to him. He saw the irritation melt from Kakashi's eye and he laughed, a thing that was delicate, that was carefree. "It was the only one I could find."

They sang for Kakashi, who watched, unamused, as their voices grew louder and their claps grew more erratic. But he indulged them anyway and blew out his candle through the fabric of his mask. 

Sasuke clapped twice at the end before reaching to cut them all slices, and Iruka counted that as a win. 

"Say 'cheese!' old man," Sakura said, holding up Iruka's clunky camera. "Congratulations on being middle-aged."

Kakashi didn't smile for the picture, but he did give her a pair of thumbs up that made both Sakura and Iruka crack up. 

It was so natural; the sounds of Naruto and his friends taking up space in his apartment, the noise, the laughter that shook through Kakashi every few minutes. 

Kakashi lay his arm across Iruka's shoulders and Iruka didn't think twice before letting himself be pulled in, before letting himself rest his head on Kakashi's shoulder, his hair loose and cascading down his side. 

"So, how does it feel?" Kakashi began, speaking low in Iruka's ear. "You're dating an old man now."

A laugh he couldn't contain bubbled forth from Iruka's lips. "Not much different, you already had the white hair. But I guess it's official now— I'll have to start searching for retirement homes soon."

"As long as they let you, Gai and the kids visit often, I'll be fine." 

Those hands Iruka knew so well rubbed lazy circles into his arm. Iruka settled closer to him, basked in his warmth and in the way their hands fit, in the way their fingers threaded together. 

And Iruka felt at home. Tomorrow he would tell Naruto he and Kakashi were dating, and the day after that he would teach Sasuke his mother's favourite recipe, and he would make more time for Sakura, and the days were endless filled with endless opportunity.

For now, he accepted the plate offered to him. He laughed at Naruto's jokes and at Sakura's swift comebacks. He cherished the kiss pressed to his forehead. And he felt loved. 

**Author's Note:**

> i had three different endings for this fic and of them this is the one that i hadn't even planned for, yet is the one i'm most happy with (one had naruto and iruka out for lunch when iruka told him about him and kakashi, and that would have added another 2k to this fic or ended it really really abruptly).
> 
> side note: baingan bharta is an Indian eggplant curry and was an, I guess not so subtle nod to my hc of Iruka being Indian— Indian and Afro-Korean (which I will pepper into everything as long as I am able).


End file.
